


Disappointment

by PeachGlitch



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Season/Series 03, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGlitch/pseuds/PeachGlitch
Summary: Nicola and Malcolm try to convince themselves that this has nothing to do with feelings.





	Disappointment

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I get invested in characters from tv shows that finished years ago?

Struggling through a low moan, Nicola comes hard and fast, clutching at the lapels of Malcolm's suit jacket.

She tries to be as silent as possible, after Malcolm reminded her last time that his office wasn't soundproof. 

Ever since they started this sordid little affair, _if_ sleeping with someone you can't stand and in return can't stand you either could even be called an _affair_ , they've only been stupid enough to have sex within Number 10 once before. And she knows, even as Malcolm releases his grip on her waist and staggers back, leaving her leaning against the wall he'd just fucked her against , that he will be annoyed at his lack of self control, and _probably_ , blame her.

Nicola subtly pulls down the bottom half of her grey pencil dress, the same one she'd worn to Eastbourne, back down over her hips. The matching blazer is in a crumpled heap on the floor near Malcolm's desk, but she makes no move to retrieve it just yet. She just stands there and crosses her bare arms, waiting for Malcolm's inevitable tirade.

"What are you gawping at?" he begins, his thick Scottish accent makes Nicola shiver slightly, and she tells herself it's from anticipation and not something else.

"Well you usually like to remind me how stupid this is _or_ how if I ever breathe a word to anyone you'll slice my skin off and wear it as a mask," she answers and shakes her head, finally making a move towards her discarded blazer.

As she bends down to pick it up she can feel Malcolm's eyes boring into her, more specifically at her arse, which she knows he has a thing for. The knowledge makes her smirk and she feel slightly more confident about the situation. "Or something equally as macabre," she sighs as she puts on the blazer and turns around back to face him with a tight smile.

But the expression quickly diminishes when she's met by one of Malcolm's famous death glares, "I wouldn't be so cocky, darlin'," he seethes as he tucks his shirt back into his trousers, "I'd hit you where it hurts, and you wouldn't see it coming. I know more about you than you do, I could write a book with all the ammunition I have, I can see it now in W.H. Smiths, 'Nicola Murray; Diaries of an eternal fuck up.'" He motions dramatically with his hands over his head, and Nicola just rolls her eyes and tries to remain stoic. "Actually, tell you what I could turn it into an entire series, J.K _fucking_ Rowling won't have anything on them, the 'Glummy Mummy Chronicles.'"

"Okay, Malcolm I get the point, we _really_ don't have to go through this every time," she huffs and turns her attention to her handbag. "Not that I would ever have any reason to mention _this_ , the fact that it would devastate my family and ruin my career, should be two big reasons that this aspect of our relationship is between us and us alone." She says as she riffles through the bag looking for her compact mirror so she can make sure she doesn't walk out with smeared lipstick like she'd done in the past.

He moves so fast that she doesn't realise he's right next to her until her upper arm is yanked so suddenly that she grimaces, and she drops the compact back into her bag.

"There is no _relationship_ ," he insists through gritted teeth.

"Bloody hell, that's not what I meant, now let go of my arm you're hurting me," she answers back, and he does let go straight away to his credit, and even mumbles a soft apology. 

The air grows heavy between them as neither say anything else. Nicola re-applies some of her makeup while Malcolm moves back over to his desk and sits down. His eyes are glued onto his blackberry but Nicola has an incling it's all for show.

"So about that policy," she says clearing her throat, and wanting to assemble some sort of normalcy back into the room.

"Christ, _really_? Do you think letting me fuck you against the wall of my office is going to soften my reaction to your shambles of a policy?" He spits, "let yourself out," his tone is so patronising that Nicola wants to walk around his desk and slap him, "and I'll pretend you didn't just try that shit with me."

She isn't looking for a fight, but she can't just walk out after being accused of using sex as a way of getting him to endorse her policy's, " _How dare you._ I would never, you really have a low opinion of me don't you?" She says as she puts her hand back over her shoulder, "and the fact you could even suggest that I'd even," she pauses and raises a hand up to squeeze the bridge of her nose, "no, you know what I won't even bother trying to defend myself, because I'm sure you'll have an even cleverer answer to whatever I say as always." 

With that she makes a bee line for the door and doesn't look back. 

It's not until she's back in her car does she realise there's an unread message on her phone. Frowning when she see's it's from Malcolm, she opens it with trepidation. She wonders what vile insult could he of come up with from the few minutes it had taken her to get back her car from his office. 

_-I know you didn't mean it like that, you're one of the few politicians that still has some integrity... but my niece could of come up with a better policy; get to work on one that doesn't make me want to hurl my insides out.-_

Nicola smiles despite herself and slumps back into the back seat of the car. 

___________

It's utterly ridiculous Malcolm thinks to himself as he watches Nicola re-dress herself. He's still lying on the bed they'd just been fucking on, the thin sheet covering his lower half as he leans uncomfortably against the headboard. He rolls his eyes as the woman nearly stumbles as she pulls up her nylon tights on, she is a liability even in private and it was just another example of how stupid he was for even being here in the first place.

Nicola Murray was everything he loathed; she was a typical middle class mother of four, frumpy and just _so_ fucking annoying. From her frizzy hair to her voice which made him want to stick knives into his ears, he couldn't stand her. And her time so far as a Minister had been disaster after disaster, she was in way over her depth and all he could do was watch and try to sort out whatever problem she flung at him.

So why did he find it impossible not to end up in a situation like this with her? At first he blamed it on the tension of their arguments, but then when it happened again _and_ again he couldn't blame that. He was Malcolm Tucker for fucks sake, he was _always_ in control and yet Nicola Murray was the exception to the rule. He had tried sleeping with a thirty something year old, a journalist who he'd always had a semi friends with benefits relationship with, but even that had been tainted thanks to Nicola. All he could think as he held onto the woman's taunt hips was how much better Nicola's plumper frame felt, and how he missed her imperfections and even the way she fucking smelled. Which was nothing special, simple vanilla shampoo and some Marc Jacobs crap he'd seen her squirt on before.

To put it in simple terms, Nicola Murray was a distraction he didn't need or want.

"Are you staying here?" He hears her speak, and just frowns at her.

She's dressed again, but her hair is more dishevelled than usual, and her makeup is smudged. She looks thoroughly fucked, and the knowledge that he was one responsible made something stir inside of him he'd rather not think about.

"So what you plannin' on telling your husband when you walk through the door looking like you've been working the streets all night long?" He snaps, finding it easier to tear her down than speak civilly. Still, he catches the way her eyes flash with hurt, and again is filled with an emotion he's not familiar with.

Nicola brushes her hair with her fingers self consciously, which doesn't help at all, "he won't be home." She simply says in a way that suggests she wasn't going to elaborate further.

Malcolm has never met the infamous James Murray, but from his research of the man he knew he wouldn't like him. By all accounts he was nasty piece of work, and it often made him wonder what someone as _good_ as Nicola was doing with him in the first place. He suspects their children were her main motivation for still being married, and no doubt her annoying need to fit in also played a part.

"So what? Are the kids stuck with a baby sitter so glummy mummy can get her kicks?" He goes on.

This time she just glares at him, "not that it's any of your business, they are staying with James's parents this weekend," she says as she grabs her handbag and flings it over her shoulder, "anyway if you _are_ staying, I'll see you in work on Monday."

His eyes narrow dangerously, "actually, darlin' it is very much my business, as is every aspect of your mundane fucking life for as long as you are working for this government," he snarls.

She just shakes her head, " _Good night_ Malcolm," she says, ignoring him and moving towards the door in her bland brown heels.

Malcolm's eyes stick to her calves, which for a woman in her late forties are lean and muscular, and he finds himself saying, "why don't you stay with me?"

She stops dead in her tracks and glances over her shoulder with a quirked brow, "why would you want me to stay?" She asks uncertainly, like she expects this to be a trick or an opportunity for him to make fun of her.

Her reply grates on his nerves and he slumps down further against the headboard, "for fucks sake, just go then."

She hesitates for a second before turning around fully and moving towards the side of the bed, "I'm sorry Malcolm you just caught me off guard, I mean you do usually tell me to piss off once we're done, I just thought you'd want me to leave as usual," she speaks so quickly it's like she's giving one of her shit speeches and all Malcolm wants to do is roll his eyes.

Instead he reaches and curls his fingers around her wrist and tugs gently until she's sitting on the bed, "stay," he just says quietly.

Nicola answers him this time by dropping her handbag down next to the bed and leaning forward to kiss him on the lips.

_______________________

"No, Jesus, _no sodding way._ I mean it's ludicrous, it's, it's-

"It's what's going to happen, Nicola, whether you like it or not." Malcolm interrupts her, but Nicola continues to pace back and forth in her office.

"I _can't_ " she whines and finally stops to sit down behind her desk. She places both her hands on the desk in front of her and concentrates on her breathing. It's something she does a lot of now to try and centre herself.

 _Deep. Breaths._ She inwardly tells herself and even shuts her eyes to block out the way Malcolm is looking at her like she's a mad woman.

"Look I ain't going to lie to you, this was a surprise but-" He stops speaking and Nicola wonders if he's just given up and left. But then she feels a set of two hands grasp at her shoulders from behind and for a second she thinks Malcolm has finally had enough of her and is going to strangle her. Instead he just squeezes her shoulders in a way that would normally be considered comforting, if it wasn't him.

"Your going for Leader of the opposition and that's final, Christ you should be pleased. Clearly the dumb fuckwits of the country seem to see something in you." He says and coming from him it's one of the more supportive things he's ever said to her.

"But Malcolm I don't want it," she whispers and leans back into the touch despite her growing anxiety.

"Yeah well tough shit," he says and there it is, the Malcolm she knows.

She sighs heavily, "this is going to put so much strain on my personal life," she says and its more to herself than him. For once he doesn't comment and she wonders whether she should be worried or revealed.

"You have to help me, _please_ , just I don't know, don't be such a dick with me, otherwise I can't," she goes on, panic taking over, and she means it. This is hardly professional, but she has to get it out before she agrees, or well, accepts the fact that this position is being thrust upon her like this.

"I'll take care of you, like I always do when shit hits the fan, but you ain't getting no special treatment. I'm director of communications not fucking mother Teresa."

She whirls around in her chair to face him, and looks up even though she knows he will be able to see the tears forming behind her green eyes, "I mean it, _please_ help me through this," she begs and her voice cracks at the end of the sentence. She needs him to know how serious she is right now. How big this is for her.

He exhales sharply, "have I let you down yet?" He asks.

Nicola frowns, because yes, actually he has. And he seems to recognise this as well and corrects himself, "I promise, when you're leader, I'll make sure you come out of this with some dignity." It's the best her can offer.

She nods and then sniffs, "can we get a hotel tonight? I can't face James just yet." She asks meekly.

"Already booked one, darlin'" He answers and she's surprised at this. It's been a while since they've been _together_ and she had wondered if he had finally had enough. But she refused to be the one to bring it up.

"Good, because I've missed you." She says honestly as he smirks down at her and briefly strokes her cheek with his thumb.

_________________________

It's been two weeks since Nicola resigned. _Two weeks_ , but it might as well of been a lifetime for Malcolm.

The last time they'd spoken was when he'd verbally attacked her for the sake of Dan fucking Miller; and for once he hated himself for it.

It had to be done though.

It's what _he_ did after all.

But it had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he didn't know what to do.

What he knows is being stood outside Nicola's front door having rung the bell twice is definitely not the best ideas he's ever had. But ever since she had stormed out of Dan's office that day he needed to see her, to speak to her, or maybe he just wanted to fuck her one last time.

Either way he was here and there was no going back, especially when he could hear someone approach the door.

It opens and he's face to face with a glassy eyed looking Nicola Murray. Her short hair is scraped back away from her face, and not for the first time he finds himself missing the messy locks she used to have. But then reminds himself that it was he who told her to chop it into a bob. More practical, he had said _more_ fitting for a possible leader.

Right now though she doesn't look like she's fit for anything.

The moments he's spent taking in her appearance means he fails to notice how she's in the process of slamming the door back shut in his face. It's only at the last minute does he reach and uses his shoulder to stop her from doing so. He groans and shudders in pain, but she doesn't seem bothered.

"Fuck off, Malcolm," she slurs, which means she's definitely been drinking.

"Charmin," he says through a wince, "that how you treat all your guests?"

"You're not a guest your a sociopath and I don't make a habit of inviting them into my home," she says and tries to push him away from the door.

"Just your bed then," he counters and regrets it the second the words leave him mouth.

The slap in instantaneous, thankfully though because of her drunken state it's not as hard as it might of been had she been sober.

It still leaves a slight sting though.

"You betrayed me!" She shouts and for the first time he realises that they are stood out in the open. A journalist could have a field day if they were spotted, not to mention her family could probably hear everything.

"Shh, stop being so fucking dramatic!” he hisses and glances over her shoulder, "do you really want your family to hear you shouting on your doorstep like a banshee?!"

She actually laughs at this, but it's cold and has no real feeling behind it, "my family aren't here, I'm surprised you didn't already know that!"

He didn't, not because he couldn't find out if he wanted, but because he had tried to distance himself from her ever since, well, everything.

"James said he wanted a divorce soon after I resigned, the kids are with him for now, you were right I am a glum mum and my kids can't stand me, anymore than I can stand myself," she admits.

Nothing holds back her tears now, and all he can do is watch helplessly as she cries in front of him, "and you were the only person I trusted and _you_ hurt me more than anyone ever could, _so_ fuck off out of my life for good."

He has so much he wants to tell her, but can't find the words. It's ironic really, the spin doctor not able to communicate.

So for the first time in his life he does as he's told and back away from the door.

________

The next day she texts him out of the blue.

_Meet me at the hotel we used to go to later._

**What time?**

_8pm._

He doesn't know how to take it. A part of him hates being summoned like a child. But he needs to speak to her properly.

Once he gets to the hotel though it's clearly not talking that Nicola wants. He knows he should fight it, but he hasn't been with her for so long an the curves of her body feel so right against his skin that he just let's it happen, lets her set the pace. Which is frantic and desperate, and a hollow comparison of what they once were or could of been.

They have sex, because it is still the one way they know how to truly mean anything to each other out loud.

Afterwards they both just lie there, not touching and _still_ not talking for the longest time, until Nicola breaks the silence, "I told you I never wanted it."

"I know," is all he can say, a lump forming in the back of his throat.

"I never wanted it," she repeats, "but you made me believe that maybe I could do it, only to fucking annihilate me."

" _Fuck_ , Nicola, you know how this works."

"I do," she says quietly, "but what you did, what you _said_ , it made me realise I can never trust you again, that even _you_ are a slave to this fucking machine of a government. You don't care, as long as you are with the best contender, and that was never me."

"I care about you plenty," he whispers, but he doesn't think she hears him, because she never replies. Just turns on her side to face away from him. He does the same and moves closer to her so he can spoon her, and he let's go of a breath he didn't realise he was holding in when she doesn't push him away.

The next morning, Malcolm wakes up stretching his arm out over the already cold left side of the bed. He frowns, and rolls over so he can check his phone, it's early. 

He calls out, “Nicola?” and waits, but she's gone and there's no trace she was ever there.

And he knows he more than likely would never cross paths with her again.

With that realisation he moves to the side of the bed she'd been on and inhales deeply into the pillow; it smells of vanilla shampoo.


End file.
